


His Majesty's SIN

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Canon Character of Color, Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, Costumes, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, French Revolution, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), War Era, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King George III has a Secret Intelligence Network (SIN) operating in France that's so secret he doesn't even realise it's run by the formidable Dowager Countess of Mawdsley, Emma Mawdsley. (An historical AU featuring the main cast of Skyfall, set in 18th century France during the Revolutionary Wars.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Majesty's SIN

**Author's Note:**

> I can only point to photos of Dame Judi in the 2005 movie of _Pride and Prejudice_ , and of Daniel Craig in _The Fortunes and Misfortunes of Moll Flanders_ , and [this prompt](http://bondkink.livejournal.com/816.html?thread=338224#t338224) on the bondkink comm on LJ to excuse the sheer madness of this.  
> Disclaimer: I suspect Fleming is turning in his grave at this point!

Emma, Dowager Countess of Mawdsley, surveyed her salon with a complacent air. A number of the great and good, or least the rich and fashionable, of Paris society were here tonight, but then her parties were famous, and invitations to them were eagerly sought after, and highly prized by their recipients. What very few people in the room knew, however, was how Em, as she was universally known to her friends, could afford to give such lavish parties; of the many people present tonight only a handful knew her secret: that she was in the pay of the British Crown, and that she ran a network of spies, informers, and mercenaries throughout northern France, whose sole raison d'être was to gather intelligence for His Majesty's government. Of course, no one back in England knew that the Dowager ran the network: her late husband had been appointed to the task, but he'd had no more idea of how to run an intelligence gathering network than he'd known how to run a costermonger's barrow – or indeed his own estate (which was why they'd had to move to France, and why his second cousin now lived at Mawdsley). Fortunately for the late and not-much-lamented Count, Emma was very good at organising and managing people, and she had been the one to recruit the network's members, and receive their reports, which she then précised and dispatched back to London regularly. 

One of her men was approaching her now: a tall man in his early forties with intense blue eyes, short brown hair beneath his fashionable wig, and the physique of a sportsman, who caused women's heads to turn whenever he was in company. Em offered him her hand as he reached her chair and he gave her a dazzling smile, before he bowed low over her hand and bestowed a kiss on it. The kiss was sensuous and lingered far longer than would be deemed acceptable by anyone else.

"You have news for me, monsieur?" Em asked softly.

"News, and other things, Madame," he answered, a glitter of desire in his blue eyes.

She allowed her eyes to drift down his figure and saw the prominent bulge of his member swelling out the front of his breeches. "Then you had better come through to my study," she said, her tone as silky as the gorgeously decorated green gown she wore tonight.

She signalled to another man, this one younger and shorter, who had a tendency to look harried. He hastened to her side at her gesture.

"Tanner, I am going to my study with Monsieur Bond so he can make his report. When Monsieur Mallory and his servant arrive please ensure that they are made comfortable after the rigours of their journey, and tell them that I shall be pleased to receive their report on the morrow."

"Yes Madame." The clerk's tone was meek and resigned as he scurried away.

"Poor William," James said. "He always looks so harassed. Can't you find a comely wench to help him relax?" 

"I believe he had hoped to win the notice of Monsieur Mallory's servant," Em said, "but Monsieur Mallory disabused him of the idea."

"Ah." James led the Countess through a discreet door at the back of the salon and along a short hall into her late husband's study, which he had rarely used so the Countess had adopted it as her own.

Once in the study, the Countess made herself comfortable on the chaise-longue and gestured for James to begin his report. He stood with his hands behind his back and his legs akimbo, a pose he liked to adopt to emphasise his physique. She didn't mind: at her age (she was in her eighth decade), she considered herself lucky that any man would look twice at her, let alone a man half her age, and one as handsome as James Bond. As always he looked superb: his knee breeches were of a dark fine cloth that emphasised his well-muscled thighs; his waistcoat, half unbuttoned, was beautifully cut and embroidered, and, together with his coat, showed off his broad chest and shoulders. He still wore his leather riding boots and they clung to his calves so tightly it was a wonder to her that he could get them on and off. He had a flirtatious manner which he used to good effect to get information from the daughters, wives, or mistresses of the men who had the information she was required to gather for London. She knew that he occasionally did more than merely flirt, seducing and bedding the women who were more coy, but rather than being jealous, she encouraged him to share the details of his conquests with her.

As he stood before her now she saw that he was more than ready to bed her, if she would allow it, and she was very willing, but as always, business came before pleasure, so he made his report in full in his most formal and precise tone, and she made careful notes in a pocketbook using a cipher of her own devising so that if the book should fall into the wrong hands, its contents would be completely meaningless to anyone else.

"You've done very well, James," she told him when he'd completed his report.

"Thank you, Madame." His body seemed to be vibrating slightly and she crooked a finger to beckon him closer. His face lit up with expectation and he quickly stepped across to her chaise-longue. She pointed to a spot in front of her, and said quietly, "You know what to do, James."

"Yes Em." He knelt down, then carefully lifted up the skirt of her dress and the petticoat beneath, before ducking his head under the layers of material to apply his mouth and fingers to her throbbing pussy. A woman as old as she did not produce much natural lubrication so she needed the aid of her young lover to prepare her to take his massive member into herself.

James pleasured her thoroughly, and she clutched his head through her clothing as her hips bucked up off the chaise-longue at her climax. He continued to lick and stroke her pussy with his fingers as she quivered through the aftermath, before withdrawing his head and shoulders. He climbed up onto the chaise-longue beside her without waiting to be invited, and leaned down to kiss her hungrily, his lips smeared with her essence. She moaned into his mouth, which seemed to excite him as he began to push her clothing aside; she glanced down and saw him unfasten the fall-front of his breeches, before he eased out his member.

"May I?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

She nodded speechlessly and he moved his body over hers, lifting her legs to make his penetration easier. She groaned in pleasure as his hard member slid into her, and she clutched as his shoulders.

"Yes James, yes. Just like that. Oh my dear boy." 

He responded to her soft words with a series of rapid thrusts into her hot pussy, and hasty kisses across her cheeks before his mouth latched onto hers. 

007-007-007

Around about the same time that James Bond was completing his final report to Em, William Tanner was greeting Monsieur Mallory and his servant. He passed on Em's message and noted that Mallory appeared relieved that he would not be required to make his report tonight. 

"Is there anything I can get you?" Tanner asked. "The servants will bring up some hot water for you to bathe, but have you eaten?"

Mallory nodded. "But I would not object to some of Mawdsley's Cognac, if the Countess' guests haven't drunk the cellar dry."

"I'll fetch it for you myself," Tanner said. "Why don't you go on up?"

"Thank you, Tanner." Mallory clapped the younger man on the shoulder, then led the way upstairs, his servant following with their valises and travelling cloaks.

Colonel Gareth Mallory had been serving in His Majesty's 1st Foot Guards since he was a boy of sixteen. He was a few years older than James Bond, but also handsome with dark brown hair beneath his wig and dark brown eyes to match. A seasoned campaigner, he travelled throughout France assessing the military strengths and weaknesses of the French Army. Since he was working secretly for the Dowager Countess' network he was usually to be seen in civilian clothing, although he'd been known to don the uniform of a senior French officer as the occasion demanded. He generally vied with James Bond for the attention of the ladies when he was in uniform, although the two men were far too gentlemanly to comes to blows over a lady's attentions.

His servant, Adam Makepeace, was unusual: a slender youngster with a dark-hued complexion who was assumed by almost everyone to be Mallory's valet. In truth, Adam Makepeace was a young woman of twenty-five named Eve Moneypenny whom Mallory had met while he was fighting in America during the war between the British and the American revolutionaries who had rebelled against British rule. Eve had been born a slave in the Americas following the enslavement of her African parents. She was a fierce warrior who had devoted herself to Mallory's well-being after he'd helped her to escape from a gang intent on raping (and probably murdering) her when she was sixteen. Although she'd been with him for nine years, he had only accepted her as his lover within the last year as he'd previously worried that he'd only be taking advantage of her gratitude to him for rescuing her from her life of slavery. He had changed his mind, however, after she'd been wounded when they had been set upon by bandits near Valmy; three weeks of nursing her back to health had made him realise how much he cared about her.

As soon as the servants had filled the large bath in front of the fire in Mallory's room with a quantity of hot water, and William Tanner had delivered the promised bottle of cognac, Mallory locked the door, then set about undressing Eve before helping her into the bath. She uttered a low moan of pleasure when he began washing her hair, and he, kneeling behind the bath to more easily reach the water, felt his member stiffen in response. He ducked his head to nuzzle the side of her neck, and heard her murmur his name. She turned her head, her mouth seeking his and he met her lips with his own in a heated kiss.

"Gareth?"

"Yes my love?"

"I'd rather not waste this hot water."

He chuckled at her low-voiced remark, then resumed washing her hair while she cleansed the rest of herself. When they'd finished, he helped her to step out of the bath, then climbed in himself for a swift wash. She watched him avidly as she dried herself off, and her attention only made him harder; he didn't bother drying himself off properly once he got out of the bath – he needed her too much. She stretched herself out on the luxurious four-poster bed as he approached, and he scrambled after her, his member throbbing with desire. 

Eve moaned as he slipped his prick into her slick heat, her first climax hit her as soon as he was fully sheathed. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, kissing him fiercely as he began to thrust deep and hard. The last three weeks had been exhausting for them both, and tiresome, too, as they'd had very little privacy along the road; simply maintaining her disguise as Adam Makepeace had been trying enough, without them making any attempts at intimacy. She knew that Gareth expected to be here in Paris for at least a week and she looked forward to them spending some time together; everyone in the Countess' network knew her as Eve, so she would be free, while she was in this house, to appear as herself.

She felt Gareth's rhythm growing ragged as he neared his climax and she raked her nails across his back, then lifted her hips as his thrusts stopped and his member began to pulse inside her as he spent himself.

He lowered his body over hers and she kissed him deeply between murmuring endearments in his ear. He wrapped his arms around her torso, then rolled over so that she lay atop him and she smiled down at him, noting that the shadows in his eyes were less intense now.

"I believe I could sleep for a week," he told her, and she laughed softly. 

"I doubt the Countess will give us the opportunity," she said.

"No." His tone was regretful and she wondered if he longed for an end to the fighting, and for the chance to return to England as she did. She didn't ask, however, as she didn't want him to think that she was dissatisfied with her lot. Being anywhere, even in the middle of a battle, with him was infinitely preferable to being anywhere else without him, and she knew that so long as the Countess needed their assistance in gathering information, they would remain here in France.

(To be continued...)


End file.
